


ascent

by littleratboy



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Episode: s06e26-s07e01 Descent Parts 1-2, M/M, Obsessive thoughts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleratboy/pseuds/littleratboy
Summary: Data is attempting to make sense of his own mind after he episodes Descent and Descent, Part II.Please heed the tags they will be updated as more chapters are added.
Relationships: Data/Geordi La Forge
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	ascent

**Author's Note:**

> heed the warnings. this fic is written from the perspective of a character experiencing PTSD, and this chapter includes obsessive thoughts and self harm.

_ “You know, Data, I've been thinking about some of the times we've had. Like that time we went sailing on Devala Lake. You remember that?” _

_ “I have a complete memory record of that day.” _

Data sat in his quarters. The lights were off, and Spot’s bed lay empty. Worf had taken her into his quarters a while back. Data did not know how long ago. After the 92nd hour alone in his dark quarters, he turned off his internal chronometer. 

It was a new sensation. A human sensation, Data assumed. Hoped. Riker had made the suggestion, recently, and while it had felt inappropriate to try while he was still bound by shifts and schedules, there were none now. 

So, the chronometer was turned off. Data knew that if he tried, he could’ve counted the seconds, or sat near the door and listened for patterns of activity. The shifts of the Security officers assigned to his door. That was not the point. He did not want to record or understand the passage of time. Only to experience it. 

He had lost his train of thought. Data did not know he could lose his train of thought. 

The process to return from what had happened was… difficult. New to Data. His mind was still not working the way he wanted it to. He did not know if he was operating as usual, he did not know that he had an accurate memory of how that felt. It seemed so far away, now. 

Train of thought. Again. Data caught himself blinking. He did not need to blink, he thought he had turned off that subroutine. It was the first of any movement in… ah. He did not know how long. 

What had he been trying to focus on, earlier? What even was that thought he was so worried about? Data shifted in his seat. The movement was inorganic, for such a human thing to do. He had been still for so long that his servos clicked. The sound reminded Data of sore joints. Once, after the two of them tried to traverse a hiking trail on shore leave, Geordi’s knees clicked and complained for days. Geordi had-

_ Geordi had been vulnerable. Geordi winced as Data drove in the device. Geordi was hurt and Data had done it Data had hurt Geordi Data Enjoyed it. _

Oh. 

Data stilled again. He centered himself in the chair, set his limbs to a symmetrical neutral position, and tried to clear his mind. He did not want to think about Geordi anymore. Data did not like thinking of Geordi anymore.

Data stood from his chair. His arms slowly wrapped around himself and, in the dark room, he closed his eyes. 

Something had altered in his memory. His memories were wrong. The addition of emotion, tainted as it had been, had corrupted his ability to form and recall memory. Data was  _ certain  _ of that. 

The day he returned to Enterprise, he sat, numb, staring at a wall while a lieutenant ran every last possible diagnostic on him. Three times each, at Data’s quiet request. After one small self adjustment after the first round, each test came back perfect. Clear. There was nothing wrong with Data on a software or hardware level. 

Data knew that was wrong. 

Something was wrong, something was wrong with him, this was not how he operated. Data started moving, slow steps until he found a steady rhythm, pacing in his quarters. His eyes were still closed, arms still hugging himself tight, but he knew his quarters well enough not to trip. 

Data wondered how tight he’d have to squeeze to crush his own chest cavity. His arms pulled a little tighter. 

Everyone seemed to forget how strong Data was, and he really was. He could easily crush any of them. He knew he could. Data reached out a hand in front of himself, the other still wrapped tight around his chest, and spread his fingers. He opened his eyes to watch them slowly close into a fist. Like a vise. He could easily kill his friends. 

Data had really,  _ really  _ wanted to kill Geordi. 

The hand pulled back, fast, and struck Data in the centre of his chest. It hurt. Data realized that he had stopped pacing before he had opened his eyes. That was not a choice he had made. It was something that had simply happened. 

That used to be something to rejoice. Subconscious decision making. Spontaneous decision making. Data used to report these things to Counselor Troi, and she would congratulate him, it was very  _ human,  _ she would say. Data did not like it anymore. He did not want to lose any control. He wanted each blink, each step, each mimed breath to be a decision. 

Data's legs folded under him. It was more collapsing than sitting, but he was down, now. On the floor. Data extended both hands again, he could hardly see them in the low light. “Computer?” His voice was quiet, just loud enough that he knew he’d be heard and understood. “Warm lighting at five percent brightness” There was no inflection in this voice, no mimicry of emotion. Data stared at his hands, stretched far away from his body. “Computer, change lighting to a pure white.” the bioplast glittered with each movement. 

_ Geordi laid under him, trying to talk of happier days, as Data tried to kill him. Data wanted to kill him, Data was going to kill Geordi Data nearly killed Geordi These Hands Had Hurt Geordi wanted to kill him these Hands These Hands These- _

The movement was fast, purposeful, Data’s hands did not shake as each reached to the opposite shoulder, grabbing and twisting them out of socket. His right arm fell heavy to the ground and Data kicked it away, scrambling with his feet. The left was not so lucky, he’d only managed to get it partway disconnected before his right hand lost control, falling away. It hung now, heavy and motionless and separate from him, but he was not yet free of it. That hand, that fucking hand, he saw it holding the device, _Geordi was under him, Vulnerable and needing kindness and and and_ and Data stomped on the wrist and stood abruptly. 

A golden facsimile of blood sprayed from under the loose sleeve of his pyjamas, onto the limb where it lay twisted under his foot. Alarms in his mind overwhelmed the thoughts of Geordi. Data stared down at his arm. He hurt. The flow of hydraulic fluid from his shoulder slowed to a trickle. His heel twisted against the wrist, and he kicked that arm away, too. It painted an arc of gold along the carpet to the wall opposite him. 

“Computer, lights out.” a program popped into Data’s mind, suggesting he visit the ship’s engineer for repairs. Data resumed his pacing in his dark quarters. 

**Author's Note:**

> lol um im talaxian on tumblr come hang out


End file.
